


Day One: Vampire/Werewolf

by running_downn



Series: Klancetober 2020 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hunk runs a bakery, Klancetober, M/M, One Shot, Shiro is beautiful, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Keith/Lance (Voltron), Vampire Lance (Voltron), Victorian era, Werewolf Keith (Voltron), and keith is more open and soft, it's so cute leave me alone, klance, lance is a dumb idiot, melts my heart, pidge in pants in the victorian era because fuck you, pidge is just vibing, victorian klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26765845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/running_downn/pseuds/running_downn
Summary: “Oh, wonderful, so we are just going to go around telling every living soul on this planet my secret that will quite frankly just, oh I’m not sure, get me killed!” Lance whispered loudly in Hunk’s face, worry and irritation coating his expression.Hunk rubbed his friend's arm in comfort, “Lance, it’s alright. I’m sure you’ll find that Keith is much more trustworthy with something like this than you may think.”“And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?”“It means,” Pidge grunted as she lifted herself up onto the table in the center of the room, “that we found another one.”“Another one,” Lance deadpanned. “There’s no way, not two this close to each other in the city. Once someone turns they-”“Scatter, we know,” Pidge interrupted. “But it’s different. He isn’t exactly like you, he’s… well he’s-”-----------------AKA welcome to Klancetober 2020, in which I will be writing a klance one-shot every single day based on the prompt list by @monthlyklance on twitter!
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Klancetober 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950799
Comments: 8
Kudos: 123





	Day One: Vampire/Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I have returned with Klance fics every day for all of October! Probably...  
> Anyways, Victorian Klance is beautiful and we need more of it so here I am to provide. I apologize for any spelling and grammar errors, as it just hit midnight and I'm genuinely too tired to edit this right now. Also my hands really hurt, I've been typing this out for five hours straight.  
> I hope you enjoy this, feedback is greatly appreciated and I do accept constructive criticism. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope I don't flake out on this whole adventure :)

The roads were filled with bustling horse drawn carriages, people rushing to their homes to avoid the inevitable rain that was evidently about to pour. A slight wind blew top hats and bonnets off the heads of the scurrying rats that were the upper class citizens of Victorian London. Judgement clouded and coated each of their faces at the sight of anything that wasn’t prim and proper, dressed up to perfection for an honest lack of reasoning aside from that of the approval of others. And yet, with their desperate desire for acceptance from the other snobs of the wealthy, none of them seemed to give each other a second glance. It was a bizarre double standard that the people fell into with ease. 

One of the very few exceptions of these people was a young man with tan skin and wavy brown hair. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the rising moonlight, causing those he walked by to fill with a strange sense of something they couldn’t seem to place. It was that of curiosity yet fear, of lust yet disgust at his apparent cool nature. His name: Lance Mcclain. Lance of course came off like the others - what, with his prideful strides with every step he took, his head held high and attire just begging to be praised. His hair was slicked back with slight ease, the occasional wave showing despite his efforts. 

One would expect such a man to make his way to the finest posh bakery in all of London and order the most expensive delicacy on the menu. Lance exceeded this simple expectation as he walked alongside the roads leading away from the upper class homes and businesses, heading straight to a small bakery sitting between an astrologer's office and a butcher’s. The bakery had a small wooden sign swinging above the door, the golden font reading “Vrepit Sal Pastries and Baked Goods.” Lance never bothered to ask what it meant, hardly giving the sign a glance as he strutted in. 

The opening of the door rang a small bell above it as Lance’s shoes tapped against the wooden floors. Lance gave an exaggerated bow and lifted the hat from his head. “What a fine establishment you have here, what is your most expensive dish?” he called out.

The few heads that were in the bakery turned, a giggle coming from a table in the far corner. “Ah, greetings, my good sir!” a large man from behind the counter responded. He was a man of strong build, deep brown skin and dark hair that was held away from his face by a headband tied around his forehead. “Why, we have a cookie smaller than my hand for the wonderful cost of a thousand pounds!”

“Splendid!” Lance gleamed, rising from his bow. “I shall have a million of them.”

“A million? Why, I don’t know if I can make that many on such short notice!” the baker gasped, holding a dramatic hand over his heart. 

“Then I shall have my father come down here and fire you from your own shop! That’s right, you shall be no more!” The two looked at each other with sparks behind their eyes. A smile crept its way onto the baker’s face, wide and genuine. 

“Well, that’s a new one, Lance,” he chuckled, brushing his hands on his apron and quickly throwing the fabric onto the counter before him. 

“What can I say,” Lance shrugged as he set his hat on a table, “I’m full of surprises.” 

The two rushed to each other, the baker wrapping his arms around the smaller figure and causing him to cough out a laugh. “Hunk, you’re killing me.”

“It’s what you deserve for not visiting me for an entire week. Do you have any idea how boring this place is without you?” Hunk let out a laugh of his own. ‘

A voice from the corner of the bakery interrupted the friends embrace, exclaiming their own playful irritation. “I’m right here, Hunk!” 

Lance spun his head over to the source of the sound, eyes widening with joy and a yell of just that erupting from his throat. “Katie!” He rushed over, scooping the young girl up in a crushing hug of his own. Katie squealed as she wrapped her arms around him in return before lightly punching his shoulder. 

“I told you to stop calling me that,” she sighed as she relaxed into the hug. 

Lance gave the girl one last squeeze before setting her down. “I have special privileges, I’m allowed to call you whatever you want- okay I’m kidding!” he yelled out in response to yet again another shoulder punch (this one harder than the last). “Well then, it is good to see you again, Pidge.” She nodded at the name and pushed her circular glasses up her nose. 

Pidge wore simple, brown trousers being held up by a pair of suspenders, a button up shirt, even more simple brown shoes, and a flat cap that was just barely able to sit atop her short, golden hair. Eyes just as gold as her hair peered out from behind her spectacles. 

Hunk made his way over to the two, resting his arms on each of their shoulders and pulling them closer against him. “And just like that, the trio is back together!”

“Not for long,” Pidge huffed, eyeing the bakery and then glancing back to Hunk - a look to which he nodded to firmly. 

The rest of the people had left the store at Lance’s arrival, all knowing that for some reason, whenever Lance came, they had to go. Hunk put up a small sign that displayed the bakery’s closing before making his way around the area to close all the curtains. 

“So, how’s life up at Mcclain Manor?” Pidge asked, picking up a scone from the display case. 

“No matter how many times you say that, it will always sound like an actual name for the house,” Lance rolled his eyes. “But it’s alright, as always. Mother and Father are as pressing as they usually are when it comes to my mandatory visits here.”

“What, is you visiting your friends not well enough for an answer or reason?” Hunk questioned. He was finishing pulling the last curtain shut as he spoke and wiped his forehead with his arm. 

The Mcclain boy shrugged, leaning against the corner as Pidge scoured the bakery for more goods. “They just can’t seem to comprehend why I come all the way down here when I have bakers and servants at my beck and call to make me anything I desire. They aren’t against ‘the less fortunate’ but they don’t seem to understand I supposed.”

“Better than ‘how dare you hang out with those filthy commoners,” Hunk chuckled. 

“Oo, what about, ‘that boy must make his biscuits with rats!’” Pidge chimed in to no avail, earning all but a confused look from Hunk and a raised eyebrow from Lance. “Oh, nevermind.” 

“Well then,” Lance stood up straight, “I suppose it’s time for my monthly supply from Shiro?” He made his way to the backroom of the bakery, muscle memory taking him to the door connecting the bakery to the butcher’s next door. 

“Wait, Lance!” Hunk called out, but it was just seconds after Lance had opened the door. 

“Alright, Shiro, I am back and here to retrieve the blood of my enemies-” Lance’s voice stopped almost as soon as it had started. 

“Well, that ruins the surprise, doesn’t it?” Pidge snorted, earning her a light shove from Hunk as the two rushed to the backroom. 

The duo came up behind Lance to see the lanky man frozen in his tracks, facing a slightly shorter figure before him. 

The muscle and build the man had made up for the few inches he had below Lance. Black hair was tied up as much as it could be, multiple strands falling loose and his bangs sitting right above gleaming, purple eyes. His skin was so pale that Lance almost asked if he was in the same situation as he was. The man raised an eyebrow at the sight of the figure before him, the blood on his apron causing Lance’s nose to twitch. 

“Uh…” the man let out a sound of confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was lower than Lance had expected - raspy yet soft at the same time. He looked Lance up and down and held his breath due to the man of extreme obvious wealth standing right in front of him. Not only was he evidently upper class, but he was stunningly gorgeous. So much so that it was hard to look away. 

Lance finally snapped out of whatever trance he had been in and stuck out his hand to shake the other’s. “My sincerest apologies, I thought that Shiro worked here but _someone_ ,” he shot a glare at the two behind him, “didn’t think to tell me there was an alteration in employment. Ownership?” A pause. “Who are you?”

“Keith,” the man responded hesitantly, shaking Lance’s hand quickly. Keith stood there with wide eyes as his hand fell to his side. “...And you are?”

“Oh! Right, Lance. Lance Mcclain,” he smirked. Lance ran a slender hand through his hair in an attempt to slick it back more but failing as a few strands fell above his eyes. 

“So, Mr. Mcclain, can I help you with anything or what?” Keith grunted, the moment they just held between them over before either knew it. The butcher turned around and made his way into the backroom of the building. 

“First, rude,” Lance pointed out as he followed the other. “Second, yes. As I said, I’m looking for Shiro?”

Keith grabbed a knife coated in blood and tossed it into a large sink beside him before tugging his apron off. “Right, of course. And what would you need him for?”

“Uh, none of your business?”

“It kind of is, your highness.”

Lance let out a gasp, “excuse me? You think comparing me to royalty is some sort of insult? How dare you, I’ll have you know-”

“Aaaaand hi, I’m Hunk,” the baker stepped into the room and clasped a hand over his friends mouth, earning a glare from Lance and an even more confused look from Keith. “We’re here to pick up the… monthly supply I told you about?” 

Keith’s face fell as his eyes darted from Lance, to Hunk, then confusingly to Pidge who was still standing in the doorway as she finished a scone. She gave a brief nod before pulling another scone out of her pocket. “Right… that. Takashi!” Keith called out. 

“Takashi?” Lance inquired, finally having pulled Hunk’s hand off of his face. 

Keith simply shrugged as he continued cleaning, and Hunk whispered quickly in the other’s ear, “it’s his first name, I’ve told you this many times.” 

Before Lance could retort, a tall, very built man entered the room. He entered with a gentle energy only a man like him could emit with his build. He really was beautiful, which was the only word Lance could seem to use to describe him. His white hair shone against the candlelight illuminating the room, and the warm glow reflected softly against the large scar across his nose. “Lance!” Shiro grinned at the sight of the other and pulled him into a quick hug. “I can’t believe I almost missed you, thank you for calling me in, Keith.”

“You didn’t tell me we’d have to do this so soon. I don’t have all the buckets filled yet, there are still three empty ones and I-”

“Keith, it’s alright, I have all he needs in the cold room,” Shiro assured, leaving Keith to let out a sigh of relief. The man ruffled the other’s hair, causing Keith to smile at the contact and close his eyes for a brief second as he caught himself. 

“Shut up,” he snapped.  
“I didn’t say anything!” Lance exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. 

“I could sense it. In the air,” Keith huffed out before spinning around and going into the cold room. 

Lance simply groaned, “okay who is that and why does he treat me like, like some sort of pest?”

Pidge laughed as she came up beside him, “well, that’s Keith. He’s Shiro’s brother and just moved here earlier in the week to help at the shop.”

“And before you ask, yes, he knows,” Shiro spoke up once more as he stepped into the cold room with Keith. 

“Oh, wonderful, so we are just going to go around telling every living soul on this planet my secret that will quite frankly just, oh I’m not sure, get me killed!” Lance whispered loudly in Hunk’s face, worry and irritation coating his expression. 

Hunk rubbed his friend's arm in comfort, “Lance, it’s alright. I’m sure you’ll find that Keith is much more trustworthy with something like this than you may think.”

“And what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means,” Pidge grunted as she lifted herself up onto the table in the center of the room, “that we found another one.”

“Another one,” Lance deadpanned. “There’s no way, not two this close to each other in the city. Once someone turns they-”

“Scatter, we know,” Pidge interrupted. “But it’s different. He isn’t exactly like you, he’s… well he’s-”

“Don’t you dare!” Keith’s voice called out from the room as he came out, two large, white buckets in hand that made a nauseating sound to everyone but Lance - who simply shivered at the smell radiating from beneath the lids. He could feel his stomach aching at the scent and knowledge of what was in those buckets. His secret stash had run out just a few days ago, and Lance got quite drained easily. One couldn’t blame him, he hadn’t eaten anything of real sustenance for himself for days. 

“Well, there goes Lance,” Hunk chuckled. “I’ll help him back to his manor. There’s no way he will get back without raising some sort of suspicion in such a state. Pidge?”

“I can’t this time, I apologize immensely I just have so much to do with Matt since… you know,” Pidge shifted. The mention of her father's disappearance didn’t get any easier no matter how many times she brought it up or even gave it a thought. 

“Of course, Pidge,” Hunk smiled softly, “you go ahead now alright? I’ll have extra scones for you in the morning.”

“Thank you, Hunk,” the girl returned the smile and gave the man a brief hug, waved the others goodbye, and ran out of the shop. The four were left alone, a light drop in energy with Pidge’s absence, yet Keith and Shiro carried right on with bringing out the last two buckets and setting them on the table. 

“Alright then,” Shiro let out a breath, “that’s all until next month!” Lance didn’t respond, his eyes nearly glossing over as they fixated on the buckets. Keith seemed stiff, afraid almost, at the sight. He’d heard stories, countless of them from his father, all describing the proclaimed creature that was in the room with him as bloodthirsty monsters that held no mercy or care for any human dead or alive. Yet despite that fear haunting the back of his mind, he could only help but feel sympathetic for the Mcclain boy. 

“So, a vegetarian vampire?” Keith asked cautiously, unsure as to whether Lance could hear him or not. 

“Yes, essentially,” Hunk shrugged as he made his way to pick up the large containers. “Help me bring these outside? My carriage isn’t the best in quality but it does the job.” 

“Oh, sure,” Keith nodded and quickly began to aid Hunk in carrying the buckets outside. Shiro wrapped an arm around Lance, leading him to the carriage and aiding him as he stepped in. The buckets took up the entire floor of the coach, Lance having to rest his feet on the seats before him. He was beginning to sweat which was overly apparent in the way he tugged at his shirt collar and successfully slicked back his hair. 

Hunk brought his hat out from the bakery and set it on the seat beside Lance. He patted his friend's hand and turned to face Keith and Shiro. “Would Keith like to be on ‘make sure Lance doesn’t lose his mind in the coach’ duty?” 

“Oh, I don’t think-”

“I believe he would,” Shiro interjected with a smile, patting his brother’s back. 

“Come on,” Keith groaned. “This is revenge, isn’t it?”

“Revenge for what, the amount of furniture you tore to absolute shreds or the fact that I have to chain you to a cellar wall every month-”

“Alright, alright, I’ll do it,” the boy sighed, shoving past Shiro and awkwardly stepping into the coach to sit next to Lance. “You will regret this, Takashi. I will tear your new chair to shreds-”

His voice was cut off by Shiro shutting the coach door, a smirk on his lips. “I just need a night alone with Adam,” he told Hunk. 

Keith’s voice was loud despite the barrier as he yelled in response, “you are absolutely disgusting, I heard that you know!”

“Oh, I know!” Shiro laughed. The man set an affirming hand on Hunk’s shoulder, nodding to him as a sign of thanks before making his way back into the butcher shop. 

Before they knew it, Keith and Lance were crammed in the back of the coach, gallons of animal blood sloshing around below them, and Lance still in an odd trance as he seemed to glare right through the buckets. Keith knew he was supposed to be watching the other, ensuring that he didn’t lose it and go blood crazy, but all he was afraid of was that the vampire would change his diet and go for the closest available meal. So Keith sat as far as he could considering the circumstances. It wasn’t until Lance spoke up that Keith was able to blink after having simply stared at the other for so long. 

“So, what are you?” Lance asked drunkenly despite his lack of alcohol intake. It was as if the scent of exposed blood alone was all it took to intoxicate his mind and body. 

“Excuse me?” Keith would refuse to admit how much his voice shook. 

“What. Are. You?” 

“Isn’t that a bit of an odd question to ask someone you hardly know-”

Lance stared blankly, “I can smell it. Your blood, that is, you’re not human.” There was a brief silence in which Keith’s fear was embarrassingly obvious. “Also, Hunk and Pidge told me,”

“Those bastards,” Keith groaned as he made to look back at Lance, who was refusing to break eye contact. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you unless you have an appetite for dogs.”

“Dogs.” Lance repeated more as a statement than a question for reassurance.

“Yes, Lance, dogs. I’m… you know,” Keith shrugged. Suddenly the term “werewolf” was too cliche and felt wrong on his tongue. Lance didn’t seem to get the idea, however, as he continued to look blankly into Keith’s eyes. “Fine. I’m a werewolf. The whole thing, chaining me up every full moon, whatever.”

Lance’s expression didn’t alter in the slightest, in fact, it seemed as though he hadn’t heard anything at all. His face was growing paler by the minute, the warm tan now a desaturated colour that looked wrong on him. 

“Lance? Are you alright?” 

“Fine, fine,” the boy muttered, “so what is it like?”

Keith nearly flinched back, stunned at the sheer lack of care that he was on the verge of falling over. “What?”

“What is it like, being a werewolf?”

“I beg your pardon, _Mr. Mcclain_ , but how does that pertain to anything happening right now? You look as though you’re dying-”

“Technically, already dead.”

“Besides the point,” Keith snapped back, earning a strange smile from Lance. The growing events of the night were so far from how he envisioned his evening. “Why must you care?”

Before Lance could answer, the carriage halted to a stop. The sound of footsteps falling onto the rock covered ground signified to Lance that he was finally home. Which meant he could eat. He felt a sudden surge of energy spurt through his body as he essentially threw himself out of the coach, Keith’s reaction time nothing to the speed of a hungry, desperate vampire. But the surge of energy was just that, a simple surge that served Lance no good once he was out of the coach, face down and in the rocks. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Keith muttered as he crawled out of the coach and rushed beside Lance, who was being lifted with ease by Hunk. “What do we do with him?”

“It’s been a while since he’s eaten, a couple days nonetheless, but it’s still a lot for him now that his body knows there’s blood nearby but still hasn’t been consumed. Vampire biology is a strange thing,” Hunk shrugged. “But I need to get these to the cellar, could you take him up to the house and into his room?”

Keith’s eyes widened at the sudden request. He hadn’t known that carrying a (ironically) lifeless vampire to his room was on the list of expectations that had been thrown at him. Shiro really must have been mad about that carpet from last time. He had no time to retaliate as Hunk was already carrying two of the buckets to the side of the house, leaving a limp Lance in Keith’s arms.

“Alright, just get the vampire to his room, past his family, in a manor that happens to be bigger than any building I have ever been in, and raise no suspicion whatsoever. How difficult could that be?” Keith grumbled to himself, lifting Lance to the best of his abilities and essentially dragging him to the front door. He raised his hand to knock but stopped himself. No scenario or explanation could explain the situation the two were in, nothing that he could think of anyways. No man or woman of such class would think anything positive of a strange man showing up at their doorstep, quite late in the evening, holding their son up to the best of his abilities.

Keith stepped back and eyed the building. It really was large, larger than anything he’d ever known. He jostled Lance, shaking the boy enough to get him to come to some sort of sense. “Lance, I need you to tell me which room is yours.”

“Oh, being so bold now, aren’t we?” Lance slurred his words. 

Keith felt his face go red and the hair on the back of his neck frizz up at the other’s words. “Please, shut up, and tell me where your room is.”

Lance raised a hand the best that he could, pointing upwards. “Aaaaall the way up there.” Keith followed his finger to a window on the second floor to the left. It could have been a lot higher, which was the only positive to the situation Keith had come up with so far. 

“Alright, Lance, I need you to hold on to me, okay?”

“Hm?”

“Hold onto me or you will fall and break your neck.” Keith didn’t know how vampires worked, he didn’t know if the wooden stake through the heart myth was true or if his body was just as fragile as it had been before he turned. But he wasn’t willing to figure that out. “Got it?”

“Yessir.” The two struggled a bit, attempting to stay quiet as Keith shifted the other’s body onto his back. He held onto Lance’s arms and legs as he made his way to the stone wall below Lance’s window. Before any regrets could sink into the werewolf’s mind, his nails had turned to claws and he was sinking them into the crevices between the stones. Lance made some sort of a sound of amusement, but Keith couldn’t pay any mind to it as he climbed the wall. He really needed to exercise more, as the simplest of tasks was proving to cause his back to ache and claws to grow sore. 

Finally, the two made it to the large window (that was to their luck, unlocked and open.) Keith considered his options to get them both in the room, and figured throwing the boy’s limp figure into the room was his safest bet - so that’s exactly what he did. Lance’s body was chucked into the room and onto the floor, a slight “oof” being forced from his throat as he laid there on the soft carpet. Keith contemplated leaving then and there, fear still pumping through his veins at the sheer prescenese of the other. And yet, Lance was the least intimidating image of a vampire Keith had ever had the honour of seeing. He would simply never forgive himself if he let the opportunity of the whole thing slip through his fingers. 

So he tugged himself with ease into the room, quietly making his way to the door and clicking the lock shut. Keith turned to the boy still on the floor, who was definitely drooling on the carpet. “Not so scary now, are you?”

“When was I ever scary?” Lance mumbled out, struggling to lift himself up.

“The second you started going mental at the sheer smell of blood, that’s when. Also you wouldn’t stop staring at me on the way here, as if you were going to eat me at any second- there! That look! Stop that!” Keith whispered harshly so as to keep his voice down, a light growl in his throat. 

“Woah,” Lance swayed once he’d finally sat up. “You are like a dog.”

“And here I thought you were some proper, rich boy,” Keith grumbled as he made his way over to the other, picking him up over his shoulder with ease. 

“Oh, my dear Keith,” Lance chuckled, “I _am_ a proper rich boy.”

“Right.”

“I am, I am a real charmer you know.”

“Sure.”

“I am!” 

“Shut up, you’re going to get us caught,” Keith hissed. 

Lance shushed him in return, only unintentionally louder than he meant to. “You shut up, mr., growling dog man.”

“Real creative,” Keith deadpanned, throwing Lance onto the bed and turning around to leave. 

“Wait, no,” Lance groaned, “come back.”

“You sound like a child, Mr. Prim and Proper, scary, bat thing.”

“We have wonderful insults,” Lance giggled. “Come back though, are you going to leave me here in my suit, my shoes still on, tie around my neck? Help, it’s suffocating me, Keith please, I am going to die right here before you.”

Keith rolled his eyes, refusing to let a smile creep onto his face. “Did you not establish that you’re already dead? Take your own clothes off.”

“But then I’ll be cold.”

“You’re a vampire, don’t you like the cold?”

Lance shook his head, attempting to sit up but failing miserably as he fell back down. “No sir, Keith, I do not. I’m like… oh what did Pidge compare it to? Right! Right, I am like a lizard. My blood is cold, and I need warmth, for I cannot do it myself.” Keith stood in near awe at the sight before him. He’d been raised on stories of vampires, before being bitten and becoming a monster himself. Never did he expect to become what he feared the most, or to sit in the same room as the one thing he feared more than what he had become. And to make matters more interesting, said thing was an absolute dork. And he was also quite beautiful, which Keith wouldn’t find himself admitting to himself - not directly at least. “Point is,” Lance continued, “either you undress me like a gentleman and cover me in my lavish blankets, or you come cuddle me until I sleep.”

Keith almost choked on air at the latter suggestion, mainly at the word cuddle being used by a vampire. 

“Don’t look so shocked,” Lance sighed. “You admitted that I scared you before, may I ask why?” Keith knew this was all just a lure to get him into the bed and… cuddle. But there was no way he’d take it. “You are a giant dog, how can a measly little man like me, scare the likes of someone such as yourself? If anything, I should be the one afraid of you.”

Keith took the bait, finding himself edging closer to the bed. “Are you not?”

“Can’t say that I am.”

“Can I ask why?” Keith inquired.   
“Only if you cuddle me to sleep,” Lance shrugged with a smirk on his lips, pale lips that parted ever so slightly to reveal a hint of gleaming fangs. “I don’t bite.”

“I’m counting on it,” Keith huffed, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath. It’s not like going back to whatever Shiro and Adam were doing would be any better than this. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Lance yelled, repeating his exclamation in a hushed tone when Keith shot him a piercing glare. He patted the spot on the bed beside him, shifting over slightly to make room. 

And the next thing Keith knew, there he was, laying face to face with a vampire. 

Lance, despite his disoriented state, had a clear enough head to really take in Keith’s genuine beauty. It wasn’t often that Lance was completely enraptured in someone’s eyes, let alone their whole appearance. He had blown out the candle on his bedside table, leaving the room in complete darkness - well, it would have been complete darkness if it wasn’t for Keith’s eyes. His eyes were a distinct colour that Lance couldn’t seem to get out of his head. They didn’t even have the appearance of glowing, as they were genuinely illuminating the small distance between their faces. The world seemed to slow, the once rushed and hasty night now coming to a stop as the two kept their eyes on the other’s. But it wasn’t the same as before, no, it wasn’t a meaningless gaze, or one of fear.

It was one of awe, of admiration, of an appearance of genuine care. Their previous banter melted in the air as Lance mustered up all his energy to spill the worlds from his throat. “You never answered my question.”

“What question?” Keith spoke, his voice a gentle whisper.  
“What is it like being a werewolf?”

Keith chuckled lightly. “Why do you care so much?”

“Well, if we’re emptying our feelings here,” which earned him a playful shove, “I’m so used to being… well, this, that I never thought about how other creatures felt. Is creatures the right word or is that rude? I feel like that’s rude-”

“Lance, you’re fine,” Keith grinned. “I get it, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about what being a vampire was like.”

“Speaking of, why are you so afraid of me? Really? I mean, we’re both monsters to society, so why the fear? And don’t say it was all just a joke, I can practically feel you trembling over there.” Keith scrunched his nose at the accurate accusation. 

“Do you really wanna know, or do you need an ego boost?”

“No, no,” Lance near pleaded. “I really do care.”

Keith let the air sit for a couple minutes, taking some deep breaths before allowing himself to speak. “I supposed I’d just always heard stories about vampire and werewolves, other monsters of course but those were the big two. Especially coming from a… family that hunts monsters.” Lance felt the tension fester between them, both still as death. “My mother had disappeared, which really sold it to my father that every monster was just that. He never really knew what happened to her, but he assumed it was a vampire and I spent my childhood in fear of them. But then I turned, some random werewolf in the woods while I was out getting firewood, and the rest is history. I didn’t tell my father when it happened, so I left. I went to Shiro, and I didn’t decide to come out of the house until this last week. He figured I needed some time interacting with people aside from him and Adam so-” 

Keith was interrupted by Lance pulling him to a tight, yet gentle embrace. It was different from Shiro’s hugs, especially considering how much smaller Lance was compared to Shiro. But it was careful and full of a feeling neither knew was there. Keith froze at the sudden contact, but found himself sinking into it the second Lance began to run his hands through the others hair. Lance took note of how soft it was as he pulled the ribbon keeping his hair tied up out and tossed it to the floor beside the bed. He began brushing through the hair with his fingers, Keith melting at the touch and allowing his eyes to slip closed. 

“You really are like a dog,” Lance murmured.   
Keith replied with a simple, “bring that up again and I’ll bite your head off in your sleep.” Which was more than enough for Lance to let out a light chuckle and pull the other slightly closer. Time continued on once the two drifted to sleep, the next morning a million years away. Sure they’d have to worry about getting Lance some blood before he was unable to do anything, and they had to deal with the awkwardness of waking up in each other’s arms despite hardly knowing each other. But morning was far away, leaving the two to take comfort in each other's embrace and cherish the fact that for at least one night, they had someone that understood. 

And maybe Keith would sit in the backroom of the butcher’s shop daydreaming about the kiss on his forehead that he swore he felt right before he fell asleep. And perhaps he started keeping extra buckets of blood in the back, just for emergencies. And maybe, just maybe, the two found solace in each other’s company - so much so to the point where cuddles on supply nights became more than just a monthly thing.


End file.
